For Anyone and Everyone
by Believe in Fairy Tales
Summary: A collection of short stories from my dA account - as the title suggests, there's a little bit of everything that will hopefully appeal to everyone! Each chapter follows a separate storyline with a different Nation. Read and enjoy!
1. PrussiaxReaderxEngland

"Look Gil, it's not working."

Your soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend gave you a questioning look, his expression confused. "What are you talking about?"

You sighed, running a hand over your face and mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to do. It was for the best – the both of you would be better off when it was done.

"Gil, I'm not going to give you the whole 'it's-not-you-it's-me' speech, because that's not how it is," you leaned back against the arm of the couch you were sitting on. It was breaking your heart to see him so confused, but it was something that had to be done. "I've seen the way you look at Elizabeta-"

"_," he started to interject, looking guilty as sin, but you held a hand up to silence him. You offered him a small, understanding smile as you continued.

"I'm not calling you out or anything," you explained gently. "I'm not mad – I know you two have been close for a long time, and it was obvious that you had feelings for her even when we were dating. All I'm saying is that it would be best if we ended things on a good note – I don't want to hold you back from being with you really want to be with, that wouldn't be fair on either of us."

Gilbert exhaled slowly, processing what you had just said. It was true, he couldn't deny it. He was pretty sure you had noticed the way his attention had been slowly but surely switching from you to the brunette Hungarian over the past few weeks.

Frowning, he took your smaller hand in his own and looked you straight in the eye.

"_, I'm really sorry," he began, but you just shook your head.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Gil. Stuff like this happens all the time. I just want you to be happy."

"You're sure about this? You really don't mind? Or want to kill me in my sleep?" he asked with a completely serious face.

You couldn't help but laugh at the last part of his question. "Yes, I'm sure. I honestly don't mind, as long as you're happy. And no, I won't kill you in your sleep or anything."

Giving you one last brilliant smile – one of those goofy grins you had loved so much – Gilbert pulled you into a hug. "Thanks for being so awesome about it, _," he said softly. "I'm really sorry thing didn't work out…"

"That's okay, Gil," you hugged him back. With a small laugh, you added, "I did learn to be awesome from you, after all."

"Ksesesese~, yeah I suppose you did," Gilbert chuckled, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You pushed down the burning sense of loss rising in your stomach – it was better for the both of you this way.

"I think you should go find Elizabeta, tell her the good news," you said jokingly, breaking the hug and looking at Gilbert for what felt like the last time. You would still see him around, but this was the last time you would be able to see him as 'yours'.

Planting a kiss on your forehead, Gilbert stood from the couch and made his way to the front door of your apartment. "Thanks again, _," he paused as he opened the door, looking at you over his shoulder. "I hope you find someone who'll treat you better than I did."

And with that, he was gone.

Only when you were sure he was gone and his footsteps had faded down the hallway, did you let the tears you had kept inside for so long fall freely from your red-rimmed eyes.

**this here be the informal line break**

It had been a few weeks since you broke it off with Gilbert, and you found yourself simply going through the motions, day in and day out. It was hard at first, coming home to an empty apartment with no calls on the answering machine or notes taped to the fridge saying that you were out of milk or eggs. All the little things reminding you that he really was gone.

But you had to keep a positive outlook – if not for your own sake, then for Gil's. If he saw you being unhappy, it would make him feel guilty. And you didn't want that. The whole reason you had broken things off in the first place was to make him happy.

"Hey, _! Snap out of it, chica!" you were brought back to the present by the impatient snapping of someone's fingers in front of your face.

Blinking repeatedly, it took you a moment to realise that you had spaced out again. You blushed, muttering a quick apology with a sheepish smile. One of your best friends, _ raised an eyebrow at you and sighed.

"Look honey, I know it's been tough since everything with Gil, but you need to wake up!" she looped an arm over your shoulders and ruffled your hair a bit. "If he's happy, why can't you be?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but closed it again with a sigh. You honestly didn't have an answer for her, and she would see through any sort of lie you tried to tell – she knew you far too well.

On the other side of the bustling cafeteria, Gilbert looked at you over his shoulder and sighed.

"I don't think she's coping, Liza," he shook his head, looking at the Hungarian woman beside him. "I feel bad…"

"You shouldn't. She did it for you," Elizabeta replied with a soft smile. "She wanted you to be happy. When I spoke to her last, she said she'd manage. All she needs is a little time. I don't think she'd want you worrying about her anyway, she's a strong girl," the brunette added with a chuckle.

Exhaling slowly, Gilbert nodded and looked around the cafeteria again. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone staring at something behind him, with a forlorn look in their gaze. The albino followed the blonde's line of sight and was quite surprised when it landed squarely on your back. He looked between you and the person he recognised as Arthur Kirkland for a few more moments, just to make sure he wasn't mistaken or anything – because that would be unawesome and all – with a sly plan worming its way into his mind.

A smile lifted the corners of the German's mouth as he turned back to Elizabeta and said, "I've just come up with an awesome plan…"

**well, lookie here, another linebreak!**

"Sooo, Artie!" Gilbert slid onto the bench right beside the blonde Englishman, throwing an arm casually over his shoulder as he did so. "How are you doing?"

Arthur cast him a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye, trying to disentangle himself from the albino's arm. "What do you want this time, you git?"

"So cold!" Gilbert exclaimed sarcastically, clutching as his chest as if wounded. He smirked when the Englishman just rolled his eyes and looked in the other direction.

"Don't be like that, Iggy!" Gilbert scooted closer, grinning. "I just wanted to talk to ya. Isn't that awesome?"

Arthur mumbled something under his breath that Gilbert didn't quite catch, but he pressed on nonetheless. "I noticed you staring at _ earlier… you interested?"

Arthur proceeded to choke on glass of water he had been drinking, coughing like a man possessed.

"W-what? Where did you get that from, you bloody wanker?" he spluttered, wide eyed and blushing furiously.

"Don't be so crude, Iggy!" Gilbert laughed, a twinkle in his crimson eyes. "I saw you giving her the eye!" he winked for effect.

Regaining some of his scattered composure, Arthur straightened the collar of his shirt and shot the German a dirty look. "I don't appreciate these false accusations! If you have nothing better to do than waste my time, I suggest you go and find someone else to annoy!"

"Don't lie, the awesome me sees everything," Gilbert chuckled, leaning against the table. "Why don't you go talk to her at least?"

The Brit mumbled something into his glass as he took another swig. Gilbert could have sworn it was something along the lines of 'like hell she'll want to talk to me'.

Shrugging, he pressed on. If _ could do something for the sake of his happiness, he could at least return the favour. He didn't want to see you unhappy – ever.

"You'll never know if you don't try," Gilbert sighed, looking off into the distance casually. "You never know, she might just like you."

Now that he thought about it, Gilbert had noticed Arthur looking longingly at _ for quite some time, starting not long after you and he had ended your relationship. He just didn't know why he hadn't put the pieces together sooner.

"C'mon Iggy, give it a try," the albino German nudged Arthur's shoulder, giving him an encouraging grin. "What have you got to lose?"

That suspicious look returned to the Englishman's bright green eyes as he narrowed them, setting his glass down on the table and leaning his elbows in its shiny, white-washed surface. "You're not just leading me on here, are you?"

"Not a chance!" Gilbert protested. His tone softened uncharacteristically as he added, "I just want to see her smile again."

The two of them lapsed into silence for a few moments. Sighing, Gilbert stood from the table and ruffled Arthur's already messy blonde hair. "Just try it, Iggy. She's pretty awesome once you get to know her."

Shooting the albino another dirty look and patting down his unruly hair, Arthur watched him casually waltz back to where he had come from. Sighing, he turned his attention back to his lunch. He found his eyes moving of their own accord, and pretty soon they were centred on you again.

He muttered a few choice curses under his breath and raised his glass of water to his lips, taking a long draught and wishing it was something stronger. Preferably alcoholic.

Mustering his courage, he decided to give the German's suggestion a try. He seemed pretty sincere when he said he just wanted you to be happy. And anyway, Arthur thought, he didn't have much to lose – besides his dignity.

But there was only so long he could watch from the side-lines for. It was time for him to change that.

**2012 – the invasion of the trolling linebreaks**

After the last of your lectures, you were on your way back to your apartment – your empty apartment, you reminded yourself bitterly – when someone called your name. You stopped and looked over your shoulder curiously, wondering who it was that wanted your attention.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise when you saw Arthur Kirkland jogging towards you. He was in a few of your English literature classes and you had spoken to him on a few occasions, but other than that you didn't know him too well. You wouldn't have minded getting to know him, though – he seemed like a rather nice person when he wasn't arguing with that obnoxious Frenchman or loud-mouthed American.

"Oh, hey Arthur," you greeted as he caught up to you. "What is it?"

He scratched the back of his head in an embarrassed sort of way and you had to restrain a laugh. He looked cute when he did that.

"I was just wondering if you could help me with that assignment we have to do for Film Study," he asked. Mentally, he was slapping himself - it was a lame excuse, but it was the only way he could think of to start an intelligent conversation with you. "I don't have a clue how to get started, quite frankly."

You gave a small laugh and smiled. "Sure, I don't mind helping out."

His sheepish smile widened into a grin. "Thanks, I appreciate it. When are you free?"

You paused thoughtfully, folding your arms and tapping a finger against your elbow. "You could come over to my apartment and we can do it this afternoon, if you'd like."

"Brilliant," if possible, Arthur's grin widened. He offered you his arm and you laughed, accepting the invitation. "Shall we?"

You smiled genuinely for what felt like the first time in weeks. "Such the gentleman, Arthur."

The Englishman blushed and shrugged. "I'm a proper Englishman after all, love."

You laughed again. It felt good. You definitely wouldn't mind getting to know him better.

You and Arthur had been busy on the Film Study project for a good few hours already, but you were having too much of a good time to notice how long it had been since the two of you had started. You hadn't been working solidly the whole time, mind you.

Between laughing at stories of your respective childhoods, crazy family members and those awkward pre-college years, the two of you had managed to get SOME work done. Perched on one of the couches in your living room, you tossed a pillow at Arthur's head and laughed indignantly at a comment he had made.

"What?" he protested with a grin, catching the pillow before it could smack him in the face. "All I said was that you looked cuter with pigtails!"

You snorted and smirked. "Implying that I don't look as good now?"

"I never said that!" Arthur coloured slightly and you laughed even harder.

"I'm joking, Iggy," you giggled. "Don't take everything so seriously!"

Smirking, Arthur chucked the pillow back at you. He was glad he had taken Gilbert's advice – you were actually pretty interesting to talk to once you warmed up to people. He remembered what had intrigued him about you in the first place – your sense of humor, the way you laughed…pretty much everything, really.

You managed to dodge the pillow and flopped back onto the couch, still laughing. You were glad you had agreed to help Arthur with the project – you hadn't laughed this much in MONTHS. When you were talking to him… it was like you could completely forget what happened with Gilbert, how lonely you had been feeling. Arthur made you feel normal again. You liked that. You liked HIM.

You pulled a tongue at the Brit sitting on the couch opposite you, fluffing the pillow between your hands. You glanced down at the still-unfinished assignment sprawled over your coffee table before your gaze flickered to the clock on the opposite wall. You squinted, not quite sure if you were reading it right.

"I didn't realise how late it had gotten!" you exclaimed, standing up from the couch. As much as you didn't want Arthur to leave, you knew he probably had to get home soon. You began to tidy up the papers strewn about the table, saying, "You probably have to leave soon…"

Arthur leaned forward, laying a hand over yours to stop your tidying. "I'm not in a rush, love."

Blushing slightly, you smiled and released the papers. You stood and stretched, unaware of Arthur's blush as he watched you in fascination.

"You want something to drink?" you asked, walking towards the small kitchenette in the next room. "Like tea or coffee?"

"Tea would be fantastic," Arthur stood and followed you.

You set the worn electric kettle to boil and proceeded to pull various things out of your cabinets – a set of mugs, a sugar bowl and two tea bags.

"Sugar?" you asked Arthur over your shoulder, hand hovering over the sugar bowl.

On a whim, he pushed himself off of the small kitchen table he had been leaning on and came up behind you, arms boxing you in as he took the sugar spoon from your hand. "None for me, thanks love," he breathed in your ear, resting his head on your shoulder.

His breath on your skin sent chills racing up and down your spine, and his close proximity made your stomach erupt in a flurry of nervous butterflies. The kettle switch flicked off as the water ceased to boil, snapping your hazy mind back to the present. Reaching for the appliance, you almost dropped it when Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist.

Trying to concentrate on not letting your knees buckle from underneath you, you dropped the tea bags into the mugs and filled them to the brim with piping hot water. You pushed them to the side, not wanting to knock them over as you turned around. Arthur afforded you enough space to rotate, but otherwise didn't move.

You smirked and leaned backwards against the kitchen counter. "I don't know how you're planning to drink your tea like this…"

Arthur returned the smirk and tightened his grip on your waist, bringing you closer. It was now or never. "The tea can wait, I'm sure."

Your breath hitched when the Englishman pressed his lips to yours, almost hesitantly at first, but he soon gained more confidence. Running his hand up your side, you gasped instinctively. Arthur took advantage of the moment and deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling passionately with yours.

He lifted you so that you were sitting on the counter, your knees on either side of his waist. You brought your arms up, encircling his neck and threading your fingers through his unruly hair. Arthur's hand slipped under your shirt, causing your skin to break out in a fresh wave of goosebumps, while his other cupped your cheek.

Grudgingly, you broke the kiss for air, leaning your forehead against the Brit's and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I should help you with your assignments more often," you laughed breathlessly, eyes closed.

"I wouldn't mind at all, love," Arthur chuckled. He would make sure to thank Gilbert for giving him the push he needed.


	2. PrussaxReader

A flurry of chaos broke through the still morning air – voices shouting, guns firing, people screaming. You gritted your teeth and ran faster, pushing your body to the limits. Gilbert ran at full tilt right behind you as the two of your ducked and weaved through maze-like corridors and hails of biting bullets.

The year was 1946 – the year after the Second World War had ended, and the year of the Nuremburg Trials.

You skidded around a corner and saw the exit to the military complex in leaping distance, but ducked out of sight as more uniformed guards burst through the door with rifles ready in their hands. You grimaced and cursed under your breath. Turning to Gilbert, who crouched panting beside you, you held a finger to your lips to indicate utter silence. If those guards caught you… you'd both be shot on sight.

At the end of the Trials, Germany had lost most of his territory to the Allied nations – France, England, America and Russia. Ludwig's anguished face filled your mind, making your stomach turn in sympathy. At least his punishment had been lesser than his brother's. The nation of Prussia had been completely dissolved. Hence the reason for your and Gilbert's daring escape.

With his dissolution as a nation, Prussia's death warrant had been signed.

You may not have even been a nation, but you sure as hell weren't going to let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, you and Gilbert pressed tight against the wall as the guards ran past you, shouting out orders to various other soldiers who you had been lucky enough not to have been spotted by. When the soldiers disappeared down the corridor, into the bowels of the building, you and the ex-nation made your move.

You both bolted towards the door, slamming it open and dashing out into the rain-drenched daylight. There were more shouts cried out from behind you, but the two of you didn't look back – you just kept running, with water streaming down your faces and plastering your hair to your heads, arms and legs pumping furiously in an effort to put as much distance between yourselves and your captors as possible.

You grabbed Gilbert's icy hand and towed him along behind you, splashing through puddles of mud, soaking your uniforms in dirt. The two of you just needed to make it to the forest bordering the complex and you would be clear. They would never be able to find you in the deep woods – you knew those forests better than anyone. It would be as though you and Gilbert had simply dropped off the radar.

But you had to focus on getting there, first.

More shots rang out behind you, and you cried out in surprise when a bullet shot into the soggy ground beside your foot. You heard Gilbert curse colourfully as more and more bullets rained down on you from sniper posts on the roof of the building behind you. The water falling from the sky poured down even harder, to the point where you couldn't tell if the tiny spears smashing down on you were raindrops or bullet shells.

"We're almost there!" you shouted, glancing over your shoulder at the bedraggled albino behind you. The edges of the forest were almost within reach, just a few more feet…

You heard a strangled grunt from behind you and whipped your head around when Gilbert ripped his hand from yours to clutch his bleeding shoulder. Your mouth went dry the sight of the crimson liquid dripping from his elbow, splattering onto the ground along with the rain.

Seeing your panicked expression, he didn't even miss as step as he gritted his teeth and barked, "Nevermind that, keep moving!"

Gritting your teeth harder – almost at breaking point – you turned back around. A second later, you and Gilbert were in the safety of the dense tree trunks, one final hail of deadly bullets peppering the trees behind you.

**BAM! Troll linebreak be trolling**

Night had long since fallen, but you and Gilbert had only collapsed to a halt a few minutes prior. The rain had stopped, leaving everything damp and shining in the cold moonlight. The two of you had been running for a good five hours, making sure that the Allies had to way to track you or follow you through the woods. You had used every hidden pathway you knew, waded through every shallow river you came across to hide your tracks.

Finding an abandoned truck near a disused supply route, you led Gilbert inside to get out of the cold night air. Groaning, the two of you literally fell into the back of the truck, chests heaving, hearts thundering and limbs aching. Pushing yourself into a sitting position, you grimaced as every single muscle in your body protested against any form of movement.

"Let me take a look at your shoulder," you pushed your limp hair out of your eyes and gently tugged on the torn sleeve of Gilbert's mud-drenched uniform. The once proud Prussian-blue of the fabric had faded to a tired, mottled brown colour.

"I really don't think it's enough to worry about," he muttered, sighing as he slid up into a sitting position against the wall of the truck.

You snorted and worked on unbuttoning the ex-nation's shirt with numb, ice-cold fingers. Peeling away his sodden, torn jacket and shirt, you helped him get his injured arm free of the wet clothing. He leaned his head back against the canvas covering the top of the lorry as you inspected his shoulder. You ran your fingers gingerly over the area surrounding the wound, wiping away any traces of mud or water.

Gilbert turned his head slightly, watching you work with tired crimson eyes. You shed your mud-stained jacket, ripping a strip of cloth from the bottom of your relatively-cleaner shirt beneath. Gently wiping away all the blood that covered the albino's upper arm, you were relieved to see that the bullet had merely grazed him, and hadn't done any serious damage.

"It's not too bad," you said, ripping another length of fabric from your shirt to haphazardly bandage Gilbert's shoulder. "This is the best I can do to stop any infections without proper supplies."

Gilbert was silent for a moment, just studying you quietly. You yelped in surprise when he pulled you flush against him in a one-armed hug.

"Thank you… for everything," he whispered against your damp hair, tightening his grip around you with his good arm.

The shock was soon to wear off, and you returned the embrace with a watery smile. "I'd do it all over again if I had to."


	3. BTTxReader

You woke up with a pounding headache – your mouth was dry and it felt as though a five-ton elephant was sitting on your skull. You groaned, clutching your head in agony. What the hell had you DONE last night? You couldn't remember a damn thing.

Sighing, you decided that you had better get an aspirin to get rid of the damn headache. You weren't even sure if you had work that day or not, seeing as you had no clue what day of the week it was.

You shifted to get up, but a weight on your waist held you firmly in place. You froze, looking down at the source of your confinement. A tanned, muscular arm was wrapped around you, holding you against a warm, rock-solid body. You coloured brightly, eyes widening as you followed the arm back to the person it belonged to.

Tousled chocolate-brown hair, sun-kissed skin… you felt your stomach do a few little flips. The first for seeing the gorgeous man-hunk lying next to you, and the second for realising that it was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo – a regular at the bar you worked at.

_Ho-ly crap_, you thought to yourself as you stared at the slumbering Spaniard. Now you really wanted to know just what on Earth you had gotten yourself into the previous night. You looked around the room – you assumed it was your apartment, seeing as you recognised the faded wallpaper and the cheap ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead – and wished you could simply just close your eyes again and pretend it was all a dream.

Your clothes were strewn everywhere – hanging off of your door, draped over your standing lamp in the corner, littering the floor. Your gaze drifted around the room, stomach sinking. There were at least ten beer bottles scattered over your coffee table, some empty and others half full. Wait a second…why the hell were you sleeping in the living room?

You looked down at where you were laying – somehow or other, your mattress had been dragged from your bedroom and dumped rather haphazardly on the floor next to the couch. Your eyes travelled up the sofa and you yelped when you saw a rather obscenely-dressed blonde passed out half over the arm of the rather beat-up piece of furniture. How the heck had Francis even managed to get that maid's outfit on in the first place?

Taking a deep breath, you managed to manoeuvre out of Antonio's hold without waking him up. You stood unsteadily, the room tilting for a few moments and your blood rushing through your ears as your hangover made itself forcefully known. Once your head had stopped spinning, you glanced down at yourself.

You had on a large dress shirt - smelling strongly of French cologne - that certainly wasn't yours, and seemed to have Toni's tomato-printed tie wrapped around your upper thigh. You blushed furiously at the thought of how it had gotten there in the first place. Glancing down at the other leg, you saw the words 'Property of Awesome' scrawled along the back of your calf in what looked like permanent marker. You sighed. That was not going to be easy to get off.

Turning around, you decided to make your way to the kitchen for those bloody aspirins. Maybe when you got rid of the headache, you would remember what had actually happened to land you in this mess. You stepped cautiously over various other cans of beer and bottles of alcohol and… a certain snowy-haired East German passed out cold on the floor behind the couch with a pair of boxers on his head. Whose boxers, you didn't even want to know.

You groaned, running a hand down your face in exasperation. How many more damn people were you going to stumble upon in this bloody apartment? And what in heaven's name were they DOING there?

Muttering a few choice curses under your breath, you entered the passageway leading from the living room to your hopefully-drunk-free kitchen. Pausing in the dim doorway, you grumbled as you leaned against the doorframe, untying the tomato-themed accessory from your leg. Ripping it off and holding it up triumphantly, you smirked at the offending article and chucked it over your shoulder.

Before you could start walking again, you were deftly caught from behind by a pair of far-too-capable hands. You squeaked when they wound themselves around your waist, trapping you.

"Where are you going, mi amor?" a sultry Spanish voice drawled in your ear, sending chills racing across your skin.

"Um, the kitchen?" you answered with a sheepish smile, looking over your shoulder.

Your (e/c) eyes met with Antonio's smouldering green ones. If he hadn't been holding onto you, you were pretty sure you knees would have buckled already.

"But it's so much better back there," you felt him smirk against your skin when he pressed his lips to your bare shoulder, sliding the dress shirt halfway down your arm in the process.

Blushing redder than you'd ever thought possible, you stopped the shirt's progression from your torso to the floor, clutching the silky material to your chest to keep some semblance of dignity. "I really need an aspirin," you laughed nervously, trying to edge towards the kitchen. "My head hurts like a bitch."

But Toni held you firmly in place, planting a trail of soft kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "You know, they say that hacer el amor helps relieve pain," he chuckled.

Trying valiantly to catch your breath, which seemed to have up and deserted you at the moment, you looked over your shoulder, past Antonio and at the other two slumbering drunkards passed out in your living room. You knew enough Spanish to know what the Spaniard was implying.

"One question," you muttered, turning around and lacing your arms around Toni's neck. "What are your buddies doing in my apartment?"

"Mi amor, I don't think you want to know," Antonio laughed, pulling you closer.

Despite your blush, you smirked, rolling your eyes. Toni was right… maybe it was best not to remember.

You yelped as he swept you off your feet and carried you bridal style to your bedroom. "They won't be a problem, si?"

"Not if they're still passed out cold," you giggled. As the two of you passed the doorway to your bedroom, you noticed the distinct lack of the mattress – which you now saw that Francis had managed to fall onto after rolling off the couch. "What about the other half of my bed?"

Antonio shot you a flirtatious look. "That didn't stop you before."

Blood shot to your face, colouring your cheeks brightly. "Amor, you look just like a tomato!" Toni laughed, kicking the door shut behind him.

In the living room, Francis groaned and pushed himself onto his elbows. He looked over his shoulder at the closed door, and noted Antonio and your absence from the room. He scowled.

"Why does that Spaniard always have all the fun?" he grumbled, pulling the odd maid's cap off his head and tossing it under the coffee table.

"Ksesese, she obviously likes him best," Gilbert's disembodied voice floated over the couch.

"Ah, mon ami, that's not what she was saying last night!" Francis chimed with a self-satisfied smirk.

Gilbert snorted, his head popping up over the back of the couch. "I'm pretty sure she called _me_ the MOST awesome."

"Keep dreaming, petit garcon," the Frenchman laughed. He glanced up at the East German giving him a scowl.

"Mon ami, why do you have my underwear on your head?"


	4. PrussiaxReader2

_Check yes Juliet, are you with me?_

_Rain is falling down on the sidewalk_

_I won't go until you come outside_

_Check yes Juliet, kill the limbo_

_I'll keep tossing rocks at your window_

_There's no turning back for us tonight_

It was a cloudy, rain-drenched dusk when Gilbert finally made it to the sidewalk beneath your first-floor window. He frowned when he saw your window closed – Ivan must have made you lock it before he and the rest of the Baltics went to bed. The silver-haired nation sighed nasally, glancing down at the soaked concrete under his black canvas sneakers. His eyes were drawn to the gravelly soil housing an old tree that had been better days as it sat despondently on the tiny patch of open ground beside the tall apartment building.

A triumphant grin broke onto his face as he scooped up a handful of the grey stone pellets. Taking a few steps back so he had a good view of your window, he weighed up the first of his tiny projectiles, took aim and threw.

The first was soon followed by a second and a third, each making dull _plink_-ing noises against the glass. Gilbert was just about to throw another handful when your light flickered on and you appeared at the window, your hair scooped up in a messy ponytail, wearing only a white tank top and a pair of shorts. If possible, his grin widened even further – he thought you were beautiful even after being rudely awakened during a rainstorm.

Peering down at the source of the noise, your eyes caught sight of Gilbert standing below you, on the sidewalk in the pouring rain. If possible, he had one of the goofiest grins over plastered on his face, his ruby-red eyes half hidden by the hood of his black jacket. The elation you felt at seeing him was quickly overpowered by the crushing fear of Ivan having been woken by the noise as well. If Russia walked in and you weren't asleep…you shuddered. There would be hell to pay. And if he saw Prussia – a nation that he absolutely hated – standing outside your window… the mere thought of what he would do made you nauseous.

"What are you doing here?" you hissed, clutching the windowsill so tightly, your knuckles turned a sickly shade of white.

"I told you the awesome me was coming around tonight to get you out of this hell-hole for a little while," Gilbert replied brightly, tossing the remainder of the gravel back into the desolate flowerbed and shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

You glanced over your shoulder nervously – the door was still closed, and it appeared as though none of the Baltics had noticed your bedroom light seeping through under it. Turning back to Gilbert with an exasperated sigh, you replied hurriedly, "You can't stay here! What if Ivan sees you? You _know_ what he'll do to you if he sees you talking to me again."

The German ex-nation just shrugged nonchalantly, winking at you. "I'm not leaving until you come out here, frau."

Seeing the look in his eyes and the expression on his face, you knew he was completely serious. Shoulder's slumping in defeat, you leaned against the windowsill and regarded him quietly. Gilbert just gave you a look and nodded his head in some vague direction down the street. You allowed yourself a small smile, shaking your head at his persistence – Gilbert knew that you hated Ivan; hated being forced to live under the same roof as the bastard for who-knew-how-long.

Ever since you had been invaded by Russia, your will to try and fight on as an independent nation had been slowly and surely dwindling, due to fear of Ivan's psychotic nature and his violent tendencies when things didn't go his way.

But then you'd met Gil.

"C'mon fraulein, it's getting cold out here!" he whispered. "It's not awesome to be cold!"

A small chuckle escaped your lips. You decided to take a chance again – like every time you met with Gilbert. Even though Ivan _thought_ he controlled you, you were still your own person; your _own_ nation. And you would do whatever you so pleased, when you felt like it. Damn the consequences.

You hopped off the windowsill, scrounging for some more suitable clothes. You grimaced. You just hoped there would be no consequences.

_Lace up your shoes, here's how we do – _

_Run baby run, don't ever look back_

_They'll tear us apart if you give them the chance_

_Don't sell your heart, don't say we're not meant to be_

_Run baby run, forever we'll be_

_You and me _

After throwing on an over-sized hoodie – one Gil had gotten for you a while back; it was your favourite – and a pair of high-top sneakers, you snapped your lightswitch off and stuffed a few extra pillows under your blanket, so that if anyone happened to decide to check on you during the night, they would think you were fast asleep.

You threw a leg over the windowsill, your foot touching down on the slick metal of the fire escape winding past your bedroom wall. Casting one last look at the closed door and shoving down the nervous butterflies in your stomach, you pushed yourself out the window and closed it behind you.

Once on the fire escape, you turned and dropped down, grabbing hold of the steel banister and sliding the rest of the way down. Landing lightly on your feet, the rain pounding down around you, you flipped your hood up and looked at the almost-drenched albino waiting for you. He grinned and grabbed your hand, towing you after him as the two of you ran down the street.

"About time!" he chuckled as you ran. "Any longer and I would have caught pneumonia!"

You laughed and tugged on his hand irritably. "Ivan sort of makes a person paranoid."

Gil flashed you another toothy grin over his shoulder, crimson eyes sparkling. "That's why I keep coming back – that psychotic bastard doesn't deserve you."

_Check yes Juliet, I'll be waiting_

_Wishing, wanting, yours for the taking_

_Just sneak out, and don't tell a soul goodbye_

_Check yes Juliet, here's the countdown_

_Three-two-one now fall in my arms_

_Now they can change the locks, don't let them change your mind_

Two weeks later, you had had enough. Ivan was pushing the limits you had to how far he could test you, both mentally and physically. Any little thing you did wrong, even the tiniest, most insignificant thing, resulted in a beating that would make a felon cringe. You were covered in bruises from your neck to your ankles, with rope burns on your wrists and fist-shaped bruises peppering your cheeks.

If you didn't know better, you would have sworn Ivan had seen you with Gilbert and was prolonging his idea of punishment for the 'ultimate sin' for as long as possible. Maybe he was just hoping you would snap, and become a raging psychopath like him.

To tell the truth, you weren't far from it.

Ivan had forced Latvia to lock you in your room for the past two days after you had tripped and spilled a glass of water. You had only been fed twice – the previous morning and night – but Raivis and Toris had been kind enough to slip you some of their rations when Ivan wasn't around. You felt sorry for the other Baltics – they walked on glass around Ivan, afraid to even breath without his say-so.

You, on the other hand, were still clinging onto your sense of identity, refusing to become Ivan's play-thing.

You were laying on your bed, staring despondently at the ceiling, when a sudden noise from outside garnered your attention. Getting to your feet, you crept over to the window to see if Ivan had returned from wherever he had headed off to that morning, dread settling like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach.

Relief flooded your veins, however, when you saw Gilbert's flashy silver car parked outside on the sidewalk. Opening your window, you leaned out as he got out the car.

"The awesome me has come to be your knight in shining armour!" he proclaimed over the hum of the engine, grinning like a madman. "Pack your bags, frau. We're leaving!"

Needing no further invitation, you raced around your sparse room to gather your belongings before Ivan arrived back. He would no doubt be furious about your sudden departure, but you weren't going to suffer here any longer.

Returning to the window, Gilbert held his arms out and you tossed him your small duffel bag. He caught it and opened the back door of his car, chucking it inside. Almost leaping out of the window, you looked at your locked door one last time and felt a tiny pang or regret at not being able to say goodbye to the others - but there was no time.

In your haste, your foot slipped on the slick metal railing of the fire escape and you lost your balance. With a yelp, you fell through open air.

But before you could hit the ground, you landed in someone's strong embrace. Cracking an eye open, you saw Gilbert smirking down at you. He winked and held you closer to him, chuckling.

"See? I told you I would be your knight in shining armour," his smirk widened and you punched his arm playfully.

"More like knight in a shiny car," you scoffed, placing your feet in the sidewalk and peering down the road to make sure Ivan was nowhere in sight.

"Don't I even get a thank-you kiss?" Gil pouted, and you couldn't help but laugh at his childish expression.

Before you could answer, there was the screech of brakes and the slam of someone exiting a car rather hastily. "NYET, _!"

Your blood froze, and both you and Gilbert whipped around to see a positively-murderous-looking Ivan charging towards you, brandishing his hefty pipe rather threateningly.

"In the car! NOW!" Gilbert shouted, both of you diving into the vehicle – you in the backseat, Gilbert in the drivers'.

Jamming the car into gear, you both slammed your doors shut and pulled away from the curb at lightning speed, tires screeching in protest and kicking up clouds of smoke in their wake. The car sped down the road, and only after you were sure that you had left Ivan far enough behind did you rise from your foetal position on the back seat and peer out of the rear window.

You laughed triumphantly when you saw the irate Russian throw his pipe to the ground with such force that it actually _bounced_ a couple of times. You ducked a little lower when he shook his fist at you, but still laughed.

You were finally free.

"We did it!" you yelled in elation, throwing your arms around the driver's seat and enveloping Gilbert in a hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, almost in tears from sheer relief and happiness.

"Are we amazing or what?" Gilbert chuckled, ruffling your hair with one hand while keeping the other planted firmly on the steering wheel.

You just laughed more, gripping him tighter. You'd managed to get away from Russia. You were finally free to be with the one man – nation – who truly made you happy.

You were pretty confident that Gil was all you would ever need.

_Run baby run, don't ever look back_

_They'll tear us apart if you give them the chance_

_Don't sell your heart, don't say we're not meant to be_

_Run baby run, forever we'll be _

_You and me_


	5. FrancexReader

"Okay, so the awesome me has come up with the most awesome plan ever!" The red-eyed East German proclaimed excitedly.

"And what would that be, mon ami?" Francis, the blonde Frenchman, replied with a somewhat bored expression as he reclined on the sofa in Antonio's dormitory.

"It had better not be anything involving Romano again," Toni's voice floated in from the kitchen. "Mi pequeno tomate is just about ready to knock my head off with all these pranks you've been pulling lately."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Toni, this plan is a thousand times more awesome. And anyway, pranking that sourpuss is getting boring!"

"Then what do you have in mind?" Francis sighed, fiddling with the end of his loosened tie.

A mischievous smirk appeared on the albino's face. "A dare."

Antonio popped his head around the doorframe, a similar expression on his face. "What kind of dare?"

"Mmm, do tell," Francis leaned forward on the couch eagerly.

Gilbert sniggered to himself – the Trio was always up for a dare.

"I was thinking we have a little… _competition_," he began, almost conspiratorially. He paused for effect.

Francis rolled his eyes. "Mon Dieu! Spill it already!"

Pulling a face at the impatient Frenchman, Gilbert continued. "We each pick a girl's dorm, break in and take something without waking them up."

"What's the fun in just taking something?" Antonio piped up, munching on a raw tomato.

"That's what the competition is for," Gilbert explained, leaning back against the couch. "I say… ten bucks for a pair of underwear, twenty for a thong, twenty-five for a bra-"

"And what if we brought the girl back?" Francis interrupted with a sly glint in his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "How much would we get, then?"

Both Gilbert and Antonio deadpanned, neither saying a word.

"What?" Francis protested, raising his hand defensively. "It was just a question, mon dieu!"

"Mi amigo, you are a rapist in training," Antonio laughed, taking another bite of his tomato. "You think you'd be able to get a girl out of her dorm by force?"

"Ohnohnohn, not by force…"

"FRANCIS! Mein Gott!"

***some German, Spanish or French word/s for 'linebreak'***

Darkness had descended on the campus, and not a leaf on a tree nor a blade of grass stirred in the balmy night. Three silently, ill-intentioned shadows broke from the cover between two buildings, each heading separate directions with a different goal in mind.

Francis chuckled quietly to himself as he dashed through the sleeping courtyard to the end of the girl's west dormitory. He knew exactly where he wanted to go for this little 'dare' of Gilbert's.

His destination in sight, the blonde Frenchman slowed to a trot and approached the window cautiously. The light wasn't on, and it would be safe to assume that the occupant of the room was fast asleep by this time. And, knowing his naïve little target, the window would surely be open to some degree to let a fresh breeze in sometime during the night.

Francis had to restrain the urge to rub his hands together gleefully. Ah, how simple gaining entry would be… and once inside… he smirked with an almost evil glint in his eye.

Did Gilbert _really_ think he was _just_ going to take a pair of underclothes? No, no, that wasn't the way the Frenchman operated.

Seeing the edge of the window slightly ajar, Francis grinned hungrily and slowly eased it fully open. He glanced around for any signs of people that would hamper his 'mission' before hopping inside. Francis actually preferred entrance by window… doors were too conventional for his tastes. And it added a certain level of thrill to the encounter.

Shutting the window behind him, Francis turned and surveyed the dark room he had entered. From the pale lamplight filtering in from outside, he managed to make out the impeccably ordered desk and dresser drawer he had always sat on when he visited, and the single-sleeper bed pushed up against the far wall, behind the presumably-locked door.

Padding over the smooth wooden floor, he approached the bed, trying his best to keep his perverted nature in check… for the time being.

***le cock-blocking line break strikes again!***

You were sleeping quite peacefully, having just finished a last-minute research assignment and still suffering the fatigued after-effects of the rough-and-tumble soccer practice. The warm, fuzzy feeling of almost coma-like slumber had a firm hold on your brain as your body recovered and your mind rested.

That was, until a sudden, unexpected warmth assailed you from above, accompanied by a weight that was certainly heavier than the blanket covering you. Subconscious suspicions arising, you were grudgingly brought out of your rest and alerted that something was slightly amiss – though your groggy mind couldn't identify exactly _what_.

Opening your eyes and blinking a few times to adjust to the cloying darkness, you were still for a few moments as you tried to figure out what the odd weight was covering you. Your senses were alerted to the feel of warm breath on the back of your neck, and the scent of some cheap French cologne drifted past your nose.

Rolling your eyes and sighing, you figured it could only be one person at this time of night, trying to harass you in your sleep. You buried your head in your pillow in exasperation.

"Francis, get the HELL off me."

"Ohnohnohn, that would be no fun now would it, mon cheri?" the Frenchman chuckled, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

You fought down the mad blush that was creeping up your cheeks. Damn the bloody frog and his effect on you… stupid hormones. He wound his arms around your waist and you rolled over to try and throw him off, but he just pulled you against him tightly, not leaving any room for escape.

You sighed nasally. "Don't you have other people to molest at this time of night?"

"Non, none of the would be this…" he ran a bold hand down the back of your leg, "_entertaining_."

"Hey!" you squawked, instinctively trying to elbow him on the gut.

Taking advantage of your more vulnerable position, Francis flipped you onto your back and pinned your arms down, straddling you and smirking. "Now what, mon amour?" he chuckled.

"If you don't get off of me _this instant_," you hissed, "I'll scream so loudly that campus guards will be down here in seconds!"

"But we both know that you don't really want that," Francis winked, lowering himself so that his face hovered mere inches from your furiously blushing one.

Mustering your scattered composure, you snarled, "Dare to test me?"

"I have no need to," the Frenchman's smirk widened. "I could silence you before you even had the first syllable out that pretty little mouth of yours."

Growling indignantly, you bucked your hips suddenly, sending the infuriating blonde tumbling to the floor. It was late, you were tired, and you had lessons in the morning. This isn't exactly what you wanted to spend your precious sleeping time doing – being molested by a pushy (though undeniably attractive) Frenchman.

Your own momentum carrying you off the bed, you landed heavily ontop of a newly-winded Francis. Sniggering at the reversed positions, you sat down heavily on his stomach, satisfied when you heard the breath _whoosh _from his lungs.

As he coughed and gasped for air, you sneered with folded arms, "You forget that I do judo out of school, moron."

"Remind me not to forget that in future," Francis groaned, trying to catch his breath.

"You better not," you grumbled. "Now get the hell out of my dorm, I have lessons in the morning,_ unlike you_."

***the time-travelling linebreak will now transport you to your next location***

"I can't believe she hit the awesome _ME _with a baseball bat!" Gilbert moaned from the kitchen, where he sat in a chair, nursing his bruised temple with a bag of frozen peas from Toni's freezer. "Who keeps a baseball bat in their dorm _anyway_?"

"Haha, mi amigo, you just picked the wrong girl!" Antonio held up a black lace bra triumphantly as he danced around the living room. "I had no problems with that little tomate!"

Francis sighed and closed his eyes, sprawled over the couch again. "Mon ami, I think you're the _only _one who got anything positive out of this little _dare_. Now shut up and let the rest of us nurse our wounded egos."

"AND HEADS!" Gilbert added from around the corner.

"Oui, our heads too."


End file.
